


Upon that Samhain Night

by PoetHrotsvitha



Series: Bloodlines [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Disguise, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Halloween, Sibling Incest, Twincest, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoetHrotsvitha/pseuds/PoetHrotsvitha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s All-Hallow's Eve of 1866, and Jacob is avoiding Evie for all he's worth. </p><p>Can be read by itself or as a prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6769843"><strong>In Trutina</strong></a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haprilona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haprilona/gifts).



The fall branches were a riot of colour, oranges and reds blending into flames of rustling leaves that crackled in the wind. Evie unhooked the garden gate and stepped through to the neighbouring plot, parcel cradled delicately in her hands, hurrying through the grass.

“Nellie?” she called, knocking at the kitchen door. “I’ve brought the butter you asked for.”

The door swung open and Nellie bustled her inside, complaining about letting the chill in. The light caught on the grey beginning to wisp around her temples, and Evie was reminded again that it had been over a decade since she and Jacob had first been caught stealing apples from their closest neighbour’s garden. But time, it seemed, couldn’t dull her eyes; they were still as blue and bright as Evie always remembered, filled with humour and patience.

“Ta, pet, I didn’t realize I was running low until I started on the cakes” Nellie said, Irish brogue lilting. She took the cloth from Evie’s hands and unwrapped the butter inside. “Not much of a cake without any butter.”

Evie took a deep and appreciative sniff. The kitchen was full of delicious smells, of caramelising apples and flaky pastry. She liked it here, with the rows of jars on the wall and Nellie’s kind presence soaked throughout; it was as close to having a Mother as Evie could imagine. “Can I stay and help?”

“I’ll never say no to an extra pair of hands.” Nellie gestured at the table, covered in flour. “Start on the dough- don’t over-knead it, mind.”

There was enough food piling up in the kitchen to feed a small army. Which, in a way, was exactly what Nellie was planning on. Being Irish in Crawley, Evie had learned over the years, could be isolating; people were often cruel, and even someone as kind as Nellie could face the edge of ignorant ideas. It meant that Nellie longed for the company of her countrymen, and when she had the opportunity, she liked to invite as many as she could from the surrounding area to celebrate holidays.

And Samhain night was coming. It was one of Nellie’s favourites, mostly because she enjoyed giving the local preacher something to complain about. She insisted on continuing some of the older customs from her home, stubbornly refusing to give them up in the face of his pointed sermons about sinful traditions. “Jesus Christ is my saviour,” she had told Evie once, “make no mistake. But I know it, and He knows it, and I suspect He doesn’t mind us down here making a big fire to celebrate the harvest, no matter what the sour-faced old Reverend says.”

Evie wandered to the table in the centre of the room, liberally dusted her hands with flour, and started to work on the dough. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Fiercely stoking the fire under her stove with a long poker, Nellie grunted. “Almost.” She stood and wiped her hands on her apron, trying to clear away the soot. “Have you settled on your guise, my dear?”

Evie rolled the sticky dough across the surface, folding and pressing in a practice motion. “Don’t you think I’m starting to get a little old for that?”

“If my fool of a son can still pull on a mask and enjoy himself, I don’t see why you can’t.” Niall was a few years older than Evie and Jacob, but there was nothing that he enjoyed more than dressing up and chasing girls around as they shrieked and laughed.

Evie stretched the dough and held it to the light, trying to see if it was thin enough. “I suppose I could pull something together.”

“I recommend being a shepherdess,” Nellie said, hands flying as she peeled a mountain of apples. She shot Evie a sly look. “Easy enough, and the lads are always fond of that one. I think I even have an old crook sitting around somewhere.”

Evie just smiled, trying to imagine a shepherdess who knew two dozen different ways to snap a man’s neck.

\---

Jacob was squinting at his cards, trying to understand how everything had gone downhill so quickly. Niall was beating him soundly, and Jacob’s pride was withering like a shrivelled plum left in the sun. He was supposed to be good at whist, damn it.

“And that's me fifteen shillings richer,” Niall crowed happily, clawing the money across the table. “Everything is right in the world.”

Jacob groaned and slumped back, draining the rest of his beer. “The Irish are bloody cheats.”

“No, we're lucky, you dickhead, and the English are sore losers. Next game?”

The pub was mostly empty, the afternoon quiet. Jacob shook his head sadly, exaggerating the motion and pulling out his pockets to show that they were empty. “Nothing left for this poor bugger.”

“Hell, I'll give you a few shillings back,” Niall offered. When Jacob’s eyebrows shot up, Niall looked a bit embarrassed. “Ma’s on a cooking spree. I daren’t go back yet. Keep me company?”

Jacob snorted and accepted the cards that Niall began to dole out. “If you're buying the beer, then go on.”

“Are you coming tomorrow, by the way? Got a lot of pretty lassies travelling down to join us, should be a good time.”

Jacob shifted. Nellie’s food was normally enough of a draw of its own, but Evie would be there. “I don't think so. Evie’s going.”

Niall shot him a confused look over his cards.

Jacob grimaced. “I'm sort of avoiding her at the moment.”

“Ah, siblings.” Niall leaned back and stroked the collection of sparse red hairs above his lip that he insisted on calling a moustache. “Thank God I haven’t got any.”

“Thank God they don't have you, you mean.”

“Yes, yes, you're very _funny_ ; now pick up your cards and take your beating like a man.”

\---

Evie found an old skirt tucked up in the attic, and Nellie gave her a pile of ribbons to assist her in the transformation to a ridiculous imitation of a shepherdess. The skirt only went to her calf and the she’d found a soft blouse, so it had the makings of a comfortable guise. She was sitting in front of the fire and sewing the ribbons into the bodice when Jacob walked in, cap pulled low over his head and hands jammed in his pockets.

He froze when he saw her. “What're you doing? Where's Father?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. His brusqueness had been getting worse and worse over the past few months, and she wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve it. He barely ever sought her out any more. It hurt her feelings if she dwelled on it- so she tried not to- but it was a harsh reminder when he looked so stunned at stumbling across her when he clearly expected her to be out training. “I'm sewing my mummer’s costume. Father’s in the study.”

Jacob shifted from foot to foot. “I can't believe he let you shrug off training for something so frivolous.”

She shrugged, returning her attention to the dress. Father never went to these things himself, but he didn't stop her or Jacob. “He likes Nellie.”

Jacob shuffled closer, frowning at the pile of cloth in her hands. “What is it?”

She tried to look as casual as possible. “A shepherdess dress.”

He made a choked noise and Evie kept her eyes trained on her lap, not willing to watch him laugh at her. When he was quiet for long enough, she cleared her throat. “Are you going tomorrow?”

“I don't think so, no.”

Her heart sank a little. Dancing and playing games at Nellie’s Samhain celebration used to be a highlight for their year; why was he doing this? “Jacob, why--”

“I'm off to bed,” he cut her off suddenly, walking away. “Long day.”

She shook her head and went back to her sewing, listening to the floorboards creak under his weight as he ascended the stairs and swung his bedroom door shut.

\---

Jacob could hear the growing sounds of the party next door when he left the house, intent on going to the pub or town or perhaps to explore one of the factories; anywhere that wasn't sitting in his room and wrestling with himself.

A _shepherdess costume._ Was it the sort with the low bodice? He hadn't been able to see anything other than the pile of fabric balanced on Evie’s knees, and he didn't know enough about women’s clothing to know how substantive it would be. Was it the kind that pushed up the- ugh, no, he didn't want to think about it. He did. He didn't. He did.

He clearly needed to leave.

Jacob was most of the way down the lane when there was a sudden burst of movement behind him and a bag was shoved over his head.

Reacting on instinct, Jacob had almost reached the flat blade that he kept strapped to his arm under his sleeve when he heard distinct male guffawing, followed by a drunken whoop. “What the fuck?” he managed, shoving himself away and twisting around, yanking the bag off to find Niall’s grinning face in front of a crowd of freckled young men.

“This is a press gang,” Niall announced. “You remember the boys- Padraig, Conor, Sean, Ronan,” Niall listed off, pointing at each in turn.

Jacob did remember them. He only saw them once or twice a year, but they were a boisterous bunch and they left an impression.

Padraig slung an arm over Jacob’s shoulders. “Niall here told us that you weren't coming and we aren't having it. You can't leave; you should see the girls we've got back there.”

“Milk-maids and witches aplenty,” Sean said, eyes misty. “And there's one hell of a shepherdess, a real basket of oranges--”

He broke off when Niall elbowed him sharply. “That's his sister, you dipshit.”

“Oh, fuck, right. Sorry.”

Niall pushed Padraig away and put a hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “Yes, Evie’s there. But what can she possibly have done that you can't be around her for one evening? It can't be that bad.”

Jacob swallowed. _Well, Niall_ , he couldn't exactly say, _lately whenever I'm around her my mind goes to mush and I can't stop thinking about grabbing her and kissing her,_ properly _kissing her, and that's all sorts of wrong, don't you think?_

He looked down at the bag that they'd pushed over his head, turning it over in his hands. It had a few rough holes in it and someone had used coarse thread to sew in the outline of angry eyebrows and an open mouth. Two little wooden horns were attached at the top. “The hell is this, anyway?”

They all laughed and yanked matching bags out of their pockets, pulling them over their heads. “We're goblins this year,” Niall said, voice audible through the hole for this mouth. The other boys all made vague ‘ooooo’-ing noises and dissolved into laughter, wiggling their fingers at each other. “There are a few others with the masks as well. And Conor has a bet on that he can kiss Padraig’s girl without her noticing who he is, if you want to join that pool. Odds are not in his favour.”

“She’ll know,” said the one who Jacob was pretty sure was Padraig. “Conor smells like shit.”

“Fuck off,” probably-Conor retorted. “She won't even be your girl once she's had a chance with me.”

Jacob looked down at the mask again, the small seed of a very bad idea taking root inside his head. The boys were all in rumpled white shirts and plain black trousers like he was, and if he took his coat off, they'd all look essentially identical except for some small differences in height.

“Come on, Jacob,” Niall wheedled. “It's tradition.”

There were lots of reasons why he shouldn't. The biggest reason being that if- on the off chance- Evie didn't recognize him, he ran the risk of doing something tremendously stupid. If she did recognize him, he ran the risk of feeling tremendously stupid. And if she didn't recognize him, and he did somethings stupid, and _then_ she recognized him-- that didn't bear thinking about.

On the other hand, he did really want to see that shepherdess outfit. Very, very much.

Oh, what the hell, he thought to himself, shoving down the sensible voices trying to get his attention. In that, at least, he had a lot of practice. It would probably be fine as long as he kept his wits about him.

“All right,” he said, yelling over Padraig and Conor’s argument about their respective manhood. “But if we’re going to look the same, I'll have to fake an accent, and I'm gonna kick some ass if any of you try and take the piss out of me for it.”

“That’s my man!” Niall said, whirling around and waving his arms around. “Alright, lads, let’s go get drunk! The ladies await!”

Shoving the mask on his head with the rest of them, nerves a bit on edge, Jacob tossed his coat on a fence post and sent up a quick prayer that he wasn’t making a terrible mistake.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my attempt to fill a request for Haprilona. While the original suggestion was for a masquerade, that didn't quite the fit the feel of Crawley for me, so I played around with the "costume party" idea and the possibility of them meeting without Evie being aware of Jacob and wrote this instead. I hope it's acceptable! 
> 
> Anyway, I liked the idea so much that it was starting to get too big, so now it's in multiple chapters, wheee


	2. Chapter 2

The dancing was in full swing, two fiddlers and a drummer enthusiastically serenading the crowd. Evie was serving up thick slices of apple cake under Nellie’s approving supervision, adding mummer’s tarts for the children. The drawing room and hallways were festooned with garlands of red and yellow leaves, and some of the younger ones were busy making a terrible mess of carving gourds. A tub was set up for bobbing apples and the party was spilling out into the garden, where a cheerful bonfire was in its starting stages.  

An older man grinned at Nellie from across the table as he got his slice of cake. “Where's young Niall then, Nellie? He about?”  

Nellie snorted. “Not so young any more, and he’ll be by soon enough. Probably off finding more liquor with that fool group of friends.”  

There was a burst of noise from the front door, the distinct combination of male laughter and delighted female shrieking. Nellie sighed dramatically, wiping her hands on her apron. “That'll be them.” Evie watched as Nellie wandered off towards them, yelling, “Niall! I need you to watch the fire!”  

Evie was about to go back to cutting cake when a pair of soft female hands were suddenly slipped over her eyes. “Guess who?” a voice trilled, light and happy.  

Evie smiled. “Isobel?”  

“Correct!” Isobel spun Evie around and pulled her in for a hug. “I haven't seen you in almost a year, love, look at how you've grown!”  

Evie leaned into the hug. “Don’t make me feel so young.” She didn't tend to make friends, preferring to spend her time researching with Father and training. But Isobel had been uniquely persistent over the years.  

“You're plenty old now. You'll have to stay after, hmm?”  

Nellie’s Samhain night unfolded in two stages. There was the party itself, with children, families and food. But afterwards, some of the younger adults would stay on as everyone else went to sleep, laughing and drinking into the night.  

Evie had never stayed before.  

She shrugged. “Perhaps.”  

"I absolutely insist." Isobel pulled away and craned her neck around. “Where's that handsome brother of yours?” She laughed as Evie wrinkled her nose at the idea. “Don't frown, all but the blind can see it. Although I shouldn't really be saying such things-- what with almost being a married woman.”  

"So has Padraig finally made an offer?”  

“Oh, he doesn't know he's going to,” Isobel flipped her hair. “But he will.”  

They turned to watch as the boys piled in, all in ridiculous matching masks with silly little horns stitched on the front. Some of the smaller children looked frightened- especially when the boys raised their arms and howled, wiggling their fingers- but the adults just laughed.  

Jacob would've thought that was funny, Evie found herself thinking. But it was his loss and there was no sense in dwelling on it.  

\---  

“Which one are you, then?”  

Jacob turned slightly and took in Jocelyn, decked head to toe in black with blond curls tucked under a cone hat. “Wouldn't you like to know?”  

She cocked her head and smiled. “Lovely to see you again, Jacob.”  

Damn. “What gave me away?”  

“Your accent’s atrocious. Might fool an English girl, but never an Irish one.”  

“That's a bit worrying.”  

She poked his chest with a wicked glint in her eye. “You need a tutor.”  

He considered her and grinned. “Are you volunteering?”  

"Depends on what you want to be taught."  

Jacob felt his grin stretch wider as he leaned down, enjoying that he was now a few inches taller than she was- the difference a year could make. "You could start with the Gaelic for 'beautiful'?" 

"You!" She slapped his shoulder and laughed. "You've grown bold!"  

Jacob saw a flicker out of the corner of his eye and shifted a little to see Evie, laughing with Isobel, the ribbons swaying on her skirt. For the moment, he was glad that he'd decided to join Niall- with her hair partly down and the loose shirt resting on her shoulders, she was a vision. "Not as much as you might think."  

"Pity. I think you're looking for  _Dathúil_ ," Jocelyn smiled.  

"Da-hoo-il," he repeated, hearing how he mangled it even as he spoke, watching Jocelyn wince and then laugh.  

"You'll get the hang of it," she promised.  

"I wouldn't be so sure."  

\---  

The children and their parents slowly filtered away from the party as the evening wore on, to home or nearby camps, little fingers smeared with honey and sleepy eyes dancing with visions of ghouls.  

Evie was still staying, firmly held down by Isobel, when one of the boys stood and waved his arms to get everyone's attention. There was some whistling and everyone quieted down.  

"It's time," he started, voice low and dramatic, "for the annual Samhain chase!"  

There were a few whoops and someone yelled, "Go on, Niall!", before he waved his arms and hissed "Shut up! I'm not- shit, you idiots, what's the point of you?"  

The voices quieted down and Niall started again. "I see we have some new faces here--" Isobel poked Evie's side, "-- but the rules are simple. Ladies, you will take a ribbon and place it upon your person. Perhaps in your hair or," his voice took a suggestive pitch, "elsewhere." There was some more whooping. "If you are caught, the gentleman takes the ribbon- seriously, quit hollering, you drunken shits- and the lady owes him a kiss. You then return here to the fire, and the last lady out wins! The prize is her own virtue!" There was a chorus of groans. "I swear to God, I'm going to kick the next person who interrupts me."  

There was a silence for a moment before Niall cleared his throat. "Actually, never mind, I'm done. Ladies, you get a minute's head start!"  

Isobel pulled Evie up, tugging off a few of the ribbons on Evie's skirt before Evie could protest. "Here you go," she said, quickly tying a blue ribbon around Evie's throat as the girls around them giggled, quickly dispersing towards the wood. "Be careful, the brambles really got me in the shins last year."  

"Isobel, this is ridiculo--"  

"Remember," Isobel said, giving Evie a solid wink before she tucked her ribbon in the space between her cleavage, giggling at Evie's scandalized gape. "The point is to get caught. Go!"  

\---  

He didn't intend to go after her. He really didn't. That way lay madness.  

But he hadn't counted on the possibility of someone  _else_ chasing after her, and that was obviously not acceptable.  

Niall's friends weren't bad lads at heart, but they were ignorant louts and a they were all a bit drunk. The thought of any of them laying their hands on Evie immediately made his skin crawl. Definitely not acceptable.  

He sprinted after them, using his Sight to keep track of her and the idiots following her. He tripped the first one and shoved a second into a tree; it wasn't necessary to actually stop them, he reasoned, just slow them down enough to make sure that she would get away. 

If he waited until there was no one else around, he would know she was safe. Then he could leave.  

\--- 

Evie knew it would be incredible easy for her to be the last one out. She knew these woods like the back of her hand, and she could likely run farther and faster than most of the men gathered. Even more, she could do it silently, and using her Sight would mean that the dark was no hindrance.  

But Isobel's words echoed in her head.  _Remember, the point is to get caught._  

This is ridiculous, she tutted to herself.  

She could hear crackling steps behind her and some giggling from other parts of the forest, and she unconsciously reached up to the ribbon around her neck.  

Oh, why not, she thought, slowing a little. She was probably the one being ridiculous about all of this. After all, she'd had some kisses before, that wasn't anything special. Some of Niall's friends were quite handsome. She could hold off on the Sight, even the playing field a little. It was just once a year, and Isobel couldn't be completely wrong. She was getting older now, after all. She was practically a woman, even if Father and Jacob didn't seem to see it at all.  

She shot a glance over her shoulder and could see that her pursuers had narrowed down to one, a broad shouldered fellow following at a jog. It wasn't remotely threatening; perhaps a little exciting, if she was honest with herself.  

There was more whistling and laughing from other parts of the forest.  

Suddenly making a decision, she twisted behind a tree, waiting for him to catch up.  

\--- 

He hadn't expected her to stop.  

Jacob almost called out in concern when she slowed down, only remembering at the last moment that he would have to be careful not to use his own voice.  

Or, no, he wouldn't have to be careful because he was going to leave, that's right, he was going to head off--  

But then slender arms were reaching out and grabbing him, and his brain was stuttering to a stop, his body twisting to face her as she leaned against the bark of a tree and tipped her face up towards him.  

"You've caught me," she said, smiling at him with promise that he had never seen before. It's a look that he had imagined countless times and absolutely vowed to himself that he would never, ever, see, and it's disorienting and intoxicating and terrifying to see it played out in reality. 

Her hand rose and pulled the ribbon loose from her neck, and he swallowed hard.  

She held it out to him. "Which one are you?"  

"Ronan," he muttered, picking a name at random and trying to mimic the accent as best he could. Dear God, he thought, don't let her notice.  

The full moon was filtering through the trees, making her eyes bright against her face. He reached out without thinking, his hand tracing the soft skin of her jaw. She leaned a little into his palm, closing her eyes so her dark lashes fluttered against her cheek.  

" _Dathúil_ _,_ " he breathed, hardly daring to believe this was happening.  

She put a hand to the edge of his mask and he gripped her arm in a panic, shaking his head. Instead, very slowly, he leaned forward, and tipped her head down to press a chaste kiss to her forehead.  

"There," he said, accepting the ribbon. She was frowning at him, obviously confused at this turn of events.  

That was the right thing to do. Everything was not yet lost. Now, he just had to force his legs to carry him away--  

Her hands suddenly reached up, and before he could react, she had pulled him down into a proper kiss. 

The world stood still for the briefest of moments.

Her lips were so soft, the sweet smell of her rich around him.  

"There," she said, repeating his phrase back to him as she pulled away. And with that, she turned and disappeared into the dark, leaving him standing with his pulse pounding in his ears.  

\---  

As Evie went to the garden gate, unhooking the latch to go home, she heard the crunch of footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw Nellie holding a lamp, waving to try and get Evie's attention.  

"Before you go," Nellie started, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out an apple and handed it to Evie. Its green skin reflected the light from the flickering candle, giving it an almost eerie glow. "Before you go to sleep, eat this while brushing your hair in front of your mirror." Nellie shot her a wink. "You'll see your true love reflected over your shoulder."  

Evie took the apple and raised her eyebrows. "Nellie, you know this is nonsense."  

"But it's tradition," Nellie insisted lightly, turning to leave now that she had accomplished her task. "I'll be asking you tomorrow to make sure you tried it."  

"But Nellie--"  

"Evie," she said gently. "You're so serious for a young woman. I know your father is proud of you for working so hard. But sometimes you should be a little bit frivolous and young; it won't hurt you."  

Evie chewed at her bottom lip. Finally nodding, she slipped the apple into her pocket.  

She turned to leave, but at the last second, she called out over her shoulder. "Nellie, what does... Da-hoo-il mean?"  

Even though Nellie's features were shrouded in dark, Evie could tell that she was smiling. "It literally means 'colourful', love, but in the context that you're talking about, I suspect he meant 'a pleasure to the eyes'."  

\---

His hands were still shaking.  

Jacob had immediately fled back to the house, running back to his room and yanking the mask off to shove it under his bed. That done, he had paced back and forth, trying to stop his racing heart, willing his breathing to slow.  

Fuck, this was a disaster.  

Standing at the window, he could see that Evie was only just returning, coming in from the gate. Jacob willed himself to be calm. She had to think he'd just been out all night.  

She also had to think the kiss came from someone else. It would be strange that the mysterious stranger hadn't tracked her down, right? Fuck, fuck, fuck. She would think that was strange. Jacob scrabbled at the things on his desk, looking for paper and ink. A note. He could leave a note. A note not from him. Well, not from  _him_ him. He tried to steady his shaking hand, writing far more neatly than he normally bothered with. This was a disaster--  

He heard the back door open and his brain creaked into movement, reminding him that it would make more sense if he wasn't home yet. He normally wouldn't be home. He ran to the other side of the room and slid the window open, quietly dropping from the ledge and running for the lane. If she was coming in from the back of the house, he would come in from the front.  

He just had to be calm. The note was in his hand. He just had to wait until she had settled in a bit, and then he would give her the letter, and it would be done.  

\---  

In her room, Evie turned the apple over slowly in her hands, frowning at it. She had changed into her nightdress and was sitting cross legged in front of her mirror, a candle set on the floor, brush cradled in her lap.  

What a thoroughly ridiculous end to a thoroughly ridiculous night.  

Given that she'd gone to the trouble of being caught, she hadn't expected to get such a chaste kiss from her pursuer. _Ronan_ , she reminded herself. It had been flattering, for a moment, to be handled so delicately. But then her pride had kicked in; what was the problem? He'd clearly gone through some effort to chase her, so why not take a proper kiss? Was something wrong with her?  

It was just a kiss. It was Samhain night. Why be so chaste?

But when she leaned in, he had completely frozen, stiffening under her hands as she pressed her lips to his. He hadn't been unhappy about it, she could tell, and he hadn't tried to push her away. It was more like... Shock. Why?   

She didn't know much of Ronan. Without her Sight, in the dark, on uneven ground and with a bit of whisky in her stomach, she didn't have a hope of recognizing anyone. Somehow, though, he had seemed incredibly familiar. He was one of Niall's friends, and she knew that he seemed like the sort to like a good joke. She had only met him a few times. He shouldn't have felt that familiar. And yet, and yet.  

It was a nice kiss, anyway. He had smelled good and his arms had been nice and strong under her hands. 

It was a bit disappointing that he hadn't tried to follow her like she'd expected he would. Perhaps it had been too dark? 

Heaving a deep sigh, she gripped the apple in her teeth and started to run the brush through her hair. This was ridiculous.  

But, she had promised Nellie, so... 

With one hand still holding the brush, she bit down into the apple and closed her eyes, chewing as the tart sweetness filled her mouth. True love in the mirror, indeed. Ridiculous.  

She slowly opened her eyes, a little bit nervous in spite of herself.  

And there, over her shoulder, was Jacob's pale face.  

She nearly jumped out of her skin, whipping around to gape at him. He was standing in her doorway, looking a little confused, still dressed in his coat and hat. "Just got home," he said, voice a little raspy. "What are you doing?"  

Her heart was hammering in her chest. She hadn't actually expected to see a  _face_ over her shoulder, and the shock had taken the breath from her lungs. And then to see Jacob-- "Uh..."  

He waited, but when it became clear that she wasn't going to say anything, he shook his head. "Fine, don't explain. This was propped up against the front door, it says it's for you? I kind of might have stepped on it on my way in."  

She reached out and took it numbly, seeing the boot print against the paper and  _Evie_ written in an unfamiliar hand. She looked back up at him, still lost for words, staring at the uneven planes of his face. This was all wrong. It was all wrong because she wasn't upset, because she wasn't appalled or scoffing at the thought. She should be more shocked, or at least, more dismissive. 

Instead, it somehow felt... Right? No, that couldn't be. This was wrong, all _wrong_ \-- 

Jacob raised his eyebrows slowly. "Right-- okay, so I'm going to assume that you've had a bit to drink tonight, and I'm going to... Go, now," he said, pointing towards the hallway. "Night."  

As his footsteps trudged down the hall, she fumbled with the paper and held the candle up to the words.  

 

 _See you next year._  

 _Ronan_  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A [**lovely edit**](http://poethrotsvitha.tumblr.com/post/149655544760/vikabreeze-evie-frye-with-elises-hairstyle) (not mine), of how I envisioned Evie's hair. 
> 
> Some more information about [ **Victorian halloween games**](https://mimimatthews.com/2015/10/18/a-victorian-halloween-party/). My (admittedly lax) research says that there are multiple versions of the apple charm/game, which doesn't surprise me.


	3. Chapter 3

**1867**

 

Standing in the yard, Evie could see Nellie's Samhain celebrations beginning to grow in volume and enthusiasm. She could still go over and join them, if she wanted. There was still time to settle into seeing old acquaintances and laughing at the children.

But she wasn't going to.

She had thought about it. When Nellie came over to personally extend an invitation for her- for the third time- Evie had almost caved. With Nellie's worried gaze on her and repeated questions about her gradual seclusion, it had been tempting to go along and pretend that things were still normal. 

But they weren't. They were different; irrevocably, hopelessly different, and had been ever since she had felt her blade crunch against bone and cartilage in the spine of her first Templar target.

There had always been a sort of barrier that existed between her and the rest of the world. It had been easy enough to ignore when her only secrets were a physical endurance and strength that made no sense for a woman, an education that exceeded all expectations, and a habit of wearing trousers that people were willing to ignore as a curious eccentricity.

But as she got older, the questions piled up. There was no marriage for her in sight, no children that she would soon be raising. Her strange clothing, acceptable in a child, caused hostility in a woman. Nights spent breaking necks didn't lend itself to afternoon teas with other young women. 

Somewhere else, maybe, it would have been possible to work through the way that she simply didn't _fit_. But in Crawley, small Crawley with its butchers and bakers and neighbours that she'd known for a decade and a half, it was easier to retreat to Father and research and the Creed.

Their cause was just, she was sure of it. It was worth sacrificing for, even if it wasn't easy.

Relying on the familiar sense of determination and discipline that curled in her chest, she turned her back on the party and went inside.

Passing the drawing room, she found Jacob dozing in an arm chair in front of the fire, his boots off and his feet propped up near the warmth. The floorboards creaked under her and he jerked awake, hat sliding off his head. "I didn't do it," he immediately mumbled, looking guilty before his gaze cleared and settled on her.

"Didn't do what?"

He had the grace to at least look embarrassed while he reached for his hat. "Anything."

She raised her eyebrows.

He relented under her gaze. "Unless you're asking about the recent riot at Hellman's factory. That may have been me."

"Of course." She smiled and he suddenly looked uncomfortable, shifting his eyes. Yet another thing that wouldn't just be normal. The sting of it had eased over time, as she just added it to a long list of things that weren't particularly fair but couldn't be helped.

And anyway, it might have been for the best. There had been episodes of distinctly un- _sisterly_ feelings on her part lately, and he couldn’t find out about that. No chance.

He cleared his throat. "Ready for Nellie's?"

"I'm not going," she said, walking towards the staircase.

"You're not?" His surprise sounded genuine, which was a curious thing coming from someone who hadn't even gone to last year's gathering.

"No."

"But Father's not here- there's not even any work for you."

Why did it matter to him? "I'll be doing some reading. Are you planning on going?"

"Well... No, but--"

"Do your best to not interrupt me, then," she said, heading towards the staircase and the seclusion of her room.

\---

The mask had stayed under his bed all year. When he got down on his knees and fished around in the dark to pull it out, other than a few dust bunnies clinging to its surface, it still looked exactly as he remembered.

Jacob sat on his bed, the rough fabric of it in hands, fiddling with the coarse weave. With Evie not going, there was no point in making his way to Nellie's party. Even Niall wasn't there, away with his new wife. Jacob could just stay home.

He was disappointed.

Intent on avoiding thinking about it, he thought he had successfully prevented himself from building up the night in his head, from letting any expectations grow.

But now that there was no possibility of _anything_ happening, it was harder to pretend that he hadn't wanted...

Well, something.

There could still be something, his brain pointed out. It was a bad idea, of course, but that was a fairly steady undercurrent in most of his decisions.

The longer he sat there, the more he was sure that he didn't want this opportunity to slide by.

Because he _missed_ her, damn it. It was hard enough to do the right thing and stay away when it was just these- these impulses- that he was dealing with, but it also meant not being able to laugh with her properly, or make fun of her for taking something too seriously, or ask for her advice.

He'd accepted that her company had be missing from his life as it currently stood, but just tonight, he had hoped that things could be different.

Maybe it still could.

\---

_We carried this item in a cask lined with lead, though we knew not whether it could be damaged by anything of man, for it was not the relic that was in danger from us but we that were in danger from the relic-_

There was a rap on her window.

Intent on her reading, Evie almost jumped out of her skin when she heard it. She spun around and her breath froze in her lungs when she saw a hovering inhuman face, warped by the pane of glass, strange brown skin illuminated only by the candles in her room.

Her window creaked open and she immediately reached for the knives that were secured in her desk. "Who are you?" she asked, pleased that her voice came out sounding steady. "Announce yourself. You have three seconds."

"Wait, wait," he said instantly, raising his hands and sounding panicked. "It's me. Ronan. From last year?"

"Ronan?" She quickly replaced the knives before he could see them and question why she had them in the first place. "What are you doing here?"

"I promised," he said, and she could hear the smile even if she couldn't quite see it. "I said I'd see you next year."

"Yes, but--"

"Can you climb trees? I have something to show you."

\---

He shimmied up the branches outside her room, looking down to make sure that she was following, and made the quick jump to the roof.

When she landed behind him, she asked, "why are you--"

"Just wait," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and spinning her around. "Look."

The bonfire was a blaze in the night, casting deep shadows on the people and trees below. Beyond the clearing, it was just possible to the deep lush green of the rolling hills that dipped into the distance, waving grass turned silver against the white light of the moon.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, entranced for a moment. Then her brow furrowed. "How did you know this would be up here?"

Shit. He cleared his throat. "Uh, Jacob brought me 'n the other lads here one year."

There was a moment's pause where his chest constricted, and then she nodded, seeming to accept it. He swallowed a sigh of relief as they settled down on the tiles of the roof. Jacob watched as she tucked her knees up under her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs, and he settled down with his hands behind his head. They sat, watching the fire and hearing the distant laughter, until she quietly spoke.

“So why did you come back?”

He shrugged. “Wanted to see you.”

She rolled her head and looked at him, quirking her lips in a smile. "Are you ever going to take that silly thing off your head?"

"It's in the spirit of the evening," he said, keeping his voice solemn. "I take this very seriously."

"You’re a strange one."

"I've heard that before."

When she scooted closer and put her head on his chest, he didn't push her away.

He almost wondered if she had fallen asleep when she spoke again. "Have you ever lost anyone, Ronan?"

Honesty was easiest, probably, and least likely to trip him up later. "Yes. My Ma. Died having me."

"Me too," she said, nodding slowly. 

“Why d'you ask?”

“They're supposed to be close, tonight, aren't they? The spirits of the dead.”

He couldn't see her expression, but it didn't sound pleased. “I suppose so.”

“I suspect most of them wouldn't be happy to see me.”

 _Ronan_ , of course, wasn't supposed to know what she meant. But Jacob did, and it gave her avoidance of the Samhain party a whole new meaning. No, he thought, with a flash of understanding. The spirits of the dead probably wouldn't be happy to see either of them, given that they'd played no small part in putting some of those ghosts over the threshold.

But Ronan wouldn't know that. What would Ronan say? “I'm sure your Ma’s in heaven and not wandering around here on earth anyway.”

“Perhaps,” she murmured, tucking herself closer against his side.

They were quiet again for a while before she asked, "will you be back next year?"

"Probably not," he replied, feeling a tinge of regret at the words. He'd already pushed his luck for two years in a row. It was only the dark and the fact that she rarely saw him that was letting him continue to get away with this, he was sure with it. Best to not do it again.

She nodded, accepting, and gave him a little pat on the chest.

Definitely worth doing it twice, though, he thought, leaning into her hair. Small mercies.

In his mind, seeing her might have involved more passionate embraces and rushed kisses. But somehow, he found that he actually preferred this, this ability to easily give comfort and something to lean against. There was a gentle familiarity that he missed from their everyday, and it made his heart ache to think it would be gone again tomorrow.  

They stayed like that until the bonfire had mostly disappeared; the sun was beginning to come up by the time they clambered back down the tree and he watched her slip into her window.

\---

Nellie visited the next day, dropping off a basket of leftovers that Father and Jacob would no doubt be thrilled about.

Evie invited her in for tea, and they sat across from each other in the cramped space of the Frye household kitchen. She would have called for Father to join them, but he was off on a mission. Jacob was God knows where, as usual.

Nellie sighed at Evie over the tea. “I’m still sorry that you didn’t come to join us last night.”

“I know,” Evie said, cradling her cup in her hands and blowing on the hot liquid. “But I had some company anyway, as it turned out.”

“Oh?”

“Ronan came to visit me. It was a pleasant conversation.” She had laid in bed for some time after he left, feeling a gentle ache in her chest; that small sadness at the pleasures of normalcy that were just beyond her grasp.

Nellie frowned at her. “But Ronan wasn’t with us last night.”

“Well, no, he wasn’t because he came here--”

“No, love, Ronan’s gone back to the old country. He met a nice girl a while back, they married and left.”

Evie blinked slowly. “What? That’s not possible.”

“I’m telling you, dear, he hasn’t been in England for months, let alone Crawley.”

There was hardly anything that she could say to that, so Evie just laughed nervously, changing the subject to plans of Christmas.

Long after Nellie left, though, Evie sat staring at her tea, willing the dark liquid to give her the answers she wanted. It didn't make sense. If it wasn't Ronan, then...

Just as she had given up on learning anything from the way that the leaves curled against the bottom of her cup, Jacob poked his head in. "Is that Nellie's cake? Because I- _yes_ , excellent, just what the doctor ordered."

She pushed the cake towards him without saying anything, still staring into space.

He didn't even bother with getting a plate or a knife, just breaking off a chunk and biting into it. Eyes fluttering, he made a happy noise that was somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and to Evie's eternal embarrassment and shame, she had to suppress the shiver that rolled down her spine at the sound. Composing her face, she sighed at him. "Should I give you some privacy?"

"What?" A crumb fell from the corner of his mouth. He looked down at the cake and held it out towards her. "Did you want some?"

"You're unbelievable."

"And you're missing out." Breaking off another chunk, he wandered away from the kitchen, intent on enjoying his spoils.

For a second, as he loped off, Evie was irrationally reminded of the way that Ronan's shoulders had rolled as she watched him disappear into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all can have some angsty fluff. That... That's a thing, right?
> 
> Had to make the transition from the previous year to the beginning of _In Trutina ___. Hope I did it justice.


	4. Chapter 4

The teapot was missing. Evie frowned, looking at the empty space in the cupboard, before leaning around the door to yell down to the library. “Father, did you take the teapot somewhere?”

“No,” the call came distantly. Well, if she hadn’t moved it, and he hadn’t moved it… That only left one person. 

She checked the drawing room to no avail. It wasn’t in the library; she would have remembered seeing it there. The likeliest place after that was Jacob’s bedroom. Muttering darkly, she stomped up the stairs. “Always leaving everything around, never cleans up after himself, like he genuinely can’t be bothered to think of anyone else…”

Pushing his door open, she saw the whole tea tray set on the ground next to his bed. Sugar was scattered all over the floor, spilling out of the bowl. Idiot, she thought to herself, kneeling down with a sigh. He probably forgot that he’d left it there and kicked it over in the night or something.

She was trying to brush it back onto the tray when she saw the scrap of fabric under his bed.

Leaning forward with a frown, she tugged it out until the whole thing became visible- coarse brown thread, a hole for the mouth, two little wooden horns sewed onto the front.

A Samhain mask.

But that wasn’t possible. He said he didn’t go, both to last year’s party and the year before. How had a mask ended up here? If he did go, why didn’t he just say? She turned it over a few times in her hands, confusion growing by the second. It was definitely one of the masks that all of the boys had been wearing. It didn’t make sense that he would have one-

The mysterious Ronan. It clicked into place suddenly, like the latch of a garden gate. But that was- did that mean that he- that she-

She should have been mortified, but instead she was hopeful. That was wrong, very wrong, why was she _hopeful_ -

There was a creak at the door, followed by Jacob’s voice. “I promise that I was just getting a rag to wipe that up, even I don’t want ants moving in-… Oh.” He trailed off as he saw the mask in her hands, visibly paling as she watched.

Evie held it out towards him. “Why do you have this? You said you didn’t go to the party, I don’t understand--”

“I didn’t,” he said immediately, looking as guilty as the day that she had caught him with the keys to Father’s liquor cabinet. “I didn’t go- Niall left this here.”

“Niall?” she repeated in disbelief. “He never comes into the house, that’s nonsense.”

Jacob was rapidly shifting from guilty to angry as he watched, the colour building in his face. “Oh, so now you’re calling me a liar?”

“I’m going to if you’re obviously lying.”

“Why are you even in here? Don’t I get a bit of privacy in this house?”

“I came in here to get the teapot! Don’t change the subject, Jacob, why were you hiding this? Why didn’t you just tell me? Why--”

“Look,” he burst out, looking furious. “I didn’t want to see you, okay?”

It was like being punched in the stomach. “What?”

“I knew that if you knew I was there, you might try and talk to me and- I didn’t want that, I didn’t want to talk to you. I wanted to be _away_ from you. So I didn’t tell you. And it worked, I got a whole night at Nellie’s where you didn’t boss me around or nag me. Happy?”

All of the air in Evie's lungs had disappeared.

She had to leave. She had to get out of this room as fast as possible, before she started to cry, because she absolutely couldn’t stand the idea of giving him the satisfaction. Worried that her hands were shaking too much to lift the tea tray, she jerked to her feet. “Just bring the teapot back when you’re done.”

Slamming the door behind her as she left, she leaned against the bannister, taking deep breaths and trying to control herself.

To think that for a moment, she thought it had been him on the roof. That she'd almost been hopeful, like a fool. There had to be some other answer to solve that mystery, something that she hadn’t hit upon yet. It was just too fantastic.

She had almost regained her composure when there was a sudden thump of Jacob hitting the wall in his room, followed by muffled swearing.

\---

 

**1868**

 

It took one of the Rooks to remind him that it was Halloween. It was a couple of seconds before Jacob connected that to Samhain, given that Nellie had always taken such firm charge of the celebrations. The day would always have an Irish flavour in his mind. But of course, here in London, it would be Halloween- with high society parties and dances to match.

Feeling jaunty, he even picked up a gourd on the way back to the train. Maybe Evie would carve it with him- something to make up for the last few years of missed celebrations. Or, at least, celebrations that she thought he had missed--

He slowed at that thought, frowning. Had they ever talked about what happened? He couldn't remember. There had been that awful moment when she found the mask, he remembered that. He vaguely recalled panicking and saying anything he could to get her to leave.

It seemed a gaping omission, if he'd really forgotten to tell her about "Ronan". But then, they'd only properly started talking again right before they left for London, and they’d both been so busy since then. It’s not like it would’ve been at the forefront of his mind.

No matter, he thought, picking up his pace with a smile. He would tell her now, and they could have a good laugh about it.

He managed to hop onto the train at Whitechapel, swinging the door open to her carriage. “Happy Samhain! I got us a gourd!”

Evie looked up from her desk and smiled at him, the indulgent kind that made his heart jump. “Aren’t we a bit old for that?”

“Eh, we’re never too old.” He set the gourd down and gave her a peck. “By the way, I realized that I think I forgot to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“I’m Ronan.”

She was still smiling, but now she looked confused. “… Beg pardon?” 

“It was me,” he said, with the biggest grin he could manage. “It was always me, all along.”

The smile was sliding off her face, which wasn’t supposed to happen. “What?”

“The chase in the woods? The kiss? And then I visited you last year, to show you my secret spot up on the roof, because I thought you would like it. Clever, right?”

She didn’t seem to think it was clever. Instead, she was now staring in to the middle distance, looking dazed. "Of course it was you," she said slowly, "Of course. When I found the mask, I knew but I didn’t believe it, I thought I was going crazy-"

Jacob wasn't sure whether to be proud or start apologizing. “That--”

She was getting angry now, her brow furrowed, her shoulders tense. "-I can't believe you thought it was appropriate to lie to me like that-”

Apologizing was starting to look more and more like the right direction. "I--"

"-and you kissed me! Without telling me it was you!"

"Well, technically, you kissed me--"

She stood, fists clenched. "And then- when I found it! You let me sit there and almost cry like an idiot because of what you said, and then you never- you didn’t- oh my God, you _enormous prat_ \--"

This was not going according to plan. “Hey, hey hey hey,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I can explain.”

She batted his hands away. “I suggest you start _now_ ,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Right. Well,” he cleared his throat. “I had really wanted to spend time with you but I felt like I couldn't, because, well, you know why.” Her eyes softened a little. That was promising, so he kept talking. “And then Niall told me about the masks, and I really wanted to see you in the, um…” The shepherdess costume. It was a bit embarrassing for him to admit, but her eyes were starting to narrow again, so he pushed ahead. “The dress you were going to wear.”

That took her by surprise. “The dress?”

"Yeah, it had the, um... The ribbons and uh..." He gestured hopelessly with his hands. "Skirt?"

She was goggling at him now, but at least that wasn't yelling. "You lied to me and risked being caught so you could see my mummer's costume?"

"Well, it was more- er, you _in_ it, but, uh..." Damn it, this was humiliating. "It was pretty. You were pretty."

The silence was complete as Evie stared at him.

He pressed on. "Anyway, then there was that stupid game, and I originally only chased you because I didn't want one those stupid louts to touch you so I shoved a few of them into trees, but then you stopped, and I didn’t know what to do, and then it was too late to backtrack… And I don’t know, it worked once, and I missed you, so…”

He looked at her hopelessly and, much to his relief, she started to laugh. It was small at first, little giggles accompanied by a shaking head, but it grew until her face was in her hands and her shoulders were quaking. Hooking his thumbs in his pockets, he waited, feeling the hopeful smile that he knew to be plastered across his face.

“It’s just,” she started, “it’s just so _typical_. Do you ever think about things beforehand?”

“No, sorry.”

She regained her composure and pointed a stern finger at him. “I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

“You can’t ever lie to me like that again.”

“I won’t.”

“You’ll need to make this up to me.”

He pouted. “If you insist.”

She shook her head again. “You’re just fortunate that I’m still vain about that guise.” Picking up the gourd, she leaned in for a kiss. “Come along, I think there’s a carving knife and some spoons in the dining car." 

All’s well that ends well, Jacob thought, following along behind her when she reached for his hand.

"And if you promise to not be an idiot for at least the rest of the evening, I might even make that mummer's costume again so you can enjoy it properly, this time.”

Sweet Lord Almighty. 

Without necessarily specifying exactly what it was for, he really would have to send Niall a thank you card.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! This was fun. Hope it was to your taste, Haprilona. -thumbs up-


End file.
